Heart of Stone
by 5th Dimension
Summary: A long time ago, a wizard lived alone, with only his creations for company. A short fairy tale.


A long time ago, in the middle of the deepest, darkest forest, lived a wizard of great power. Unlike many wizards, he cared little for power or prestige, choosing to stay away from men, elves, and dwarves alike. When he hungered, he summoned creatures and fed from them. When he thirsted, he summoned rain to drink from. And like all wizards, he read and wrote much, and practiced his magic… but his true passion was in creating statues.

Gnomes, goblins, even dragons… It did not matter what the statue was of, for he could make any likeness perfectly, such was his skill. The home he had made and its surroundings were filled with stone creatures that you could almost believe would move. In one place, orcs and elves the size of chess pieces would battle for the sake of their small world. In another, dragons danced and spun, a lizardfolk bard playing upon a masterwork violin frozen in eternal stone. Birds of flesh would call out to ones of stone, but would fly away sorrowful that their frozen compatriots would not answer. Every day, the wizard perfected his craft, hearing the forms call for him from inside the stone, and releasing that which was within.

One day, though, a different voice called from the block of stone he had gathered. It whispered affectionately, imploringly. He put down his chisel, for to carve at this one with crude tools did not feel right. He raised his hand and filled it with magic, before gradually smoothing away the stone with his fingers. Away came dead stone, and the voice filled with happiness and called out to him even more. Bit by bit, a woman of breathtaking beauty emerged, one who did not belong to any race but whose features brought tears to the wizard's eyes. And for the first time, he felt a desire to connect with someone outside of himself.

He stopped making statues, though he cared for the ones he had, especially her. He carefully cleaned her, read to her, told of her of the magic he'd learned. He described with fondness the antics of the other statues, describing the frozen dances and wars.

And she remained still.

Days passed into weeks and then months and years, and he continued to talk to her. He grew to love her more and more with every passing day, and he only wished that one day, she may have spoken back to him. And perhaps this would have remained nothing more than a vague hope, if it were not for him finding the spell that men call _stone to flesh._

Giddy with anticipation, he cast the spell, watching as inch upon inch of stone became lovely pale skin and her hair turned pitch-black. But in his haste, he could not foresee the spell's biggest flaw: she had no life in her.

When he realized what he had done, he knelt next to her and wept, holding her cold, soft hand with his own. She would never speak, for he could give her no soul or voice of her own. She would not walk, or breathe, or live, and he felt it was not fair, not fair at all that the Gods would deny him this, that he would not know the one he loved so much.

He kept her safe, and each day continued to speak to her. Some days, he told her of all that she could see, all that she would experience, if she would listen to the request of a poor man who loved her and wake up. And some days, he begged her forgiveness for changing her, that she not hate him for using such magic on her.

And she remained still.

Years became decades, and the wizard grew old. His magic fell by the wayside, and he grew gaunt as he ate and drank less and less, but he continued to care for his statues and for her above all else. And as the summer turned to autumn once again, he moved slower and slower, until one day, he was too weak to move from her side. He held her hand with shaking, fragile fingers, apologizing again and again that he could not hold off any longer, telling her that he didn't want to leave her alone. That he had never stopped loving her, and that even if she never spoke he would stay with her until the end.

His breaths and heartbeat slowed, and he took one last look at her face. And as the world dimmed, he heard a voice, unmistakably hers.

"I love you too."

If you were to go there even now, you would find nothing more than a pair of statues holding hands and looking at each other with such love that even the stone creatures around them cry tears of joy, for never shall they be parted, and never shall their love end.


End file.
